


The Angel of Small Death

by Maimaktês (0o_Higanbana_o0)



Series: Sing Along, Sweet Despair [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anoint yourselves in ashes and adorn sackcloth, F/M, Gen, Hozier gives me Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0o_Higanbana_o0/pseuds/Maimakt%C3%AAs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean<br/>She’s the angel of small death and the codeine scene</p><p>Post 2x09, post "It's worth the risk", post Mt Weather infiltration.<br/>Bellamy is out, and running for his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Angel of Small Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rashaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rashaka/gifts), [viansian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viansian/gifts).



Ok, so this is for Viansian and Rashaka, because I survived this rollercoaster of a day thanks to their blogs, their funny posts and their sass. 

Bucketloads of kudos to [Sarah](http://sarahavoidsreallife.tumblr.com), my wonderful beta! 

Also, angst. I’m so sorry.  ｡･ﾟヾ(✦థｪథ)ﾉ｡ﾟ･｡

P.S.: The song is [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YpdzZbTs2qo), by Hozier. 

 

* * *

**The Angel of Small Death**

 

** **

 

 

 

Bellamy is running at full speed through the trees. His lungs are about to burst and his throat is raw. After days cooped up in a cage or strapped to a table, his legs are too weak to sustain such a tremendous pace. It’s a brand new kind of torture.

Bellamy had his fill of torture.

But he cannot stop.

 

Carl Emerson is hot on his heels.

 

Carl _fucking_ Emerson is running out in the open, thanks to the bone marrow stolen from Harper, Monty, and so many other friends.

 

The gift of life, of radiation resilience; repaid with needles and tears and pain.

 

Bellamy knows that if he stops, he dies, so he pushes his body further. He desperately gasps for air, ducking down as he hears the harsh bark of Emerson’s weapon.

 

The guard is hollering something behind him, but Bellamy can’t make out the words. The wind is whipping at his face; the rush of blood and air in his ears drowns out all other sounds.

 

His sight is starting to dim, the ground is heaving and rolling under his feet. He stumbles and one of Emerson’s bullets nicks his shoulder. Biting down a cry, he plows forward with knees on the brink of buckling, arms flailing, throat burning.

 

Time seems to slow down.

 

He sees Clarke again, the planes of her face made harsh by the fire light.

 

_“It’s worth the risk.”_

 

_With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean_

_She’s the angel of small death and the codeine scene_

 

In the end, he can only agree. Yes, it was worth the risk. Worth it because Miller, Harper, Monty, Jasper and 32 others escaped alive. Because Lincoln slipped out unnoticed and managed to contact the Ark.

Because Mount Weather’s reign of terror is finally over.

 

If his lips weren’t cast in a desperate rictus, trying to suck gulps of badly needed oxygen in, Bellamy would crack a wry smile.

 

_Contract carried out, Princess._

 

_With her straw-blonde hair, her arms hard and lean_

_She’s the angel of small death and the codeine scene_

 

 

 

Emerson is gaining ground.

On paper, Bellamy should easily be able to outrun the guard. He’s younger, faster, _angrier_. His body is used to running across the treacherous forest ground, but the weeks of captivity took a hard toll.

 

And since his mission is fulfilled, well…

 

His friends are safe, out of Dr Tsing’s reach, far from the clutches of Dante.

Lincoln will take care of Octavia. Bellamy knows that. When he glanced at them before leaving, he knew that the determination in the Grounder’s eyes was mirroring his own.

 

And Octavia is strong. She doesn’t need him. Not anymore.

 

Still, he would have liked to see them again.

He would have liked come back alive, to show Clarke that she didn’t have to push him away. That she didn’t have to be so afraid.

 

_To see the fear and the doubt leave her eyes._

_Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh I_

_Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet_

 

Emerson’s bullet catches him square in the chest.

 

There’s a sweet rapture in surrendering.

When he puts his foot down for the last time, when his knee gives and when he tumbles forward, shoulder crashing onto the hard ground barely cushioned by the golden blanket of fallen leaves, a strange euphoria washes over him.

His fight is over.

 

He can see the sky through the canopy of the forest.

The azure is so brilliant. He hasn’t seen such a vivid blue in weeks.

 

He closes his eyes, and thinks of Clarke one last time.

 

_Fresh from the fields, all feeder and fertile_

_It’s bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet_

 

He doesn’t see Murphy’s blade slicing through the air and embedding itself between Emerson’s eyes. He doesn’t hear the scrambles of feet, nor does he feel the hands on his wound stemming the flow of blood, trapping his life in his chest and keeping it from ebbing away. He doesn’t hear the voice frantically calling his name, the broken sobbing.

 

He only sees the blue of Clarke’s eyes.

 

_And lease this confusion, I’ll wander the concrete_

_Wonder if better now having survived_

_Jarring of judgement and reasons defeat_

_The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth I’m alive_

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I don't know where that came from.  
> It's the first time I write angst, I hope I didn't make a fool out of myself...  
> I'm seriously thinking about starting a series of Bellarke Drabbles set to the background of Hozier's song. But oh, the angst!
> 
> So please, let me know what you think! 
> 
> Come and say "Hi!" on Tumblr, I'm currently taming the beast.  
> The name's [Maimaktês](http://maimaktes.tumblr.com)! :3


End file.
